Silent Hill: Awakening
by Thyme Cypher
Summary: Daniel feels out of place, and of course, doesn't understand why. Trying to fit in, he's approached by a dark figure who requests his presence in Silent Hill.
1. Chapter 1: The Sun of West Oak

"Damn it!" He lifted his head straight into the steel hood of his blue '75 Camaro. "Argh..." He threw the wrench to the left and a rusty spark plug to the right.

A voice familiar to Daniel cried out to him, "Chill out, Daniel. That's no way to treat a woman."

"Oh screw you Marcus. Let's see you try to fix this sunnova bitch of a car..."

"I'm no more of a mechanic than you are, though I could probably go longer than you without breakin' somethin'."

Daniel walked over to the spark plug and picked it up. The delicate ceramics had cracks in them now, and the connectors gave way to the rust. The fact that it was not entirely his fault that the spark plug was no good, made him somewhat comforted. Marcus was right; Daniel was no mechanic. He was an attorney, an attorney with a passion for classic cars.

Daniel ran his grease-coated hand through his dark dirty blond hair. Daniel emitted stress like a space heater, but his expressions and movement showed he did not want Marcus to notice. This struck Marcus, and he showed it with a tilted face, and by adding more wrinkles to his already well-aged face. Marcus walked

"What's the problem here, bud?"

"I gotta get this damn car runnin'. I gotta meet someone to discuss a case in a few days."

"Why you gotta get this ol' junker runnin' for that? Don' you got one of them newer hybrids or somethin' like that?"

Daniel just finished pulling a spark plug from his toolbox, one with notably less rust, but surely not new. He cleaned it off with a shop towel – a light blue durable towel, best suited for greasy jobs. He paced over to the Camaro, with an expression that showed he was on a mission. He placed one hand on the front of the car as he leaned in to place the spark plug into its new home.

"Why do we have these fancy new hybrids, Marcus?"

Marcus looked at him with a confused expression. He grabbed onto the straps of his jean overalls, and tilted his head. Marcus was definitely, what some would call... "Old school," but he also knew the value of a penny, and electric vehicles definitely took the cake when it came to not having to sell organs to pay for a gallon of gas. Marcus shortly paused, and moved to speak, but Daniel cut him off.

"We got 'em 'cause they're expected of us. Now I will admit, they sure as hell are nice, but what about the classics, Mark? "He turned to his baby, rubbing the recently waxed finish. "No, those are jus' transportation to me; this... this is a car, Mark. These beasts make driving fun, not those dinky ass oversized RC cars."

Daniel paced over to the driver's side door, slamming the hood in his path. He slung the door open, while making sure not to bend the hinges, and hopped in. He pressed on the clutch and the break, grasping the key in his right hand. He turned the key, and the sound of the engine trying to turn over echoed into the nearby garage.

"Work, damn you..."

One... two... three... four... five. Five seconds later, the engine started purring. Daniel threw his fist in the air followed by a soft laugh. "Hell yeah! Hahaha!" He pulled the key back towards him as he let off the pedals. He had a grin on his face that only a mother could love.

Marcus leaned on the car door, with a grin of his own. His beer belly pressed against the glass of the window, well to match what he would say next. "Well well, looks like you got 'er runnin. Now how about you stop your bitchin' an' we hit the bar?" He let out a bellowing laugh, and Daniel let out a loud "hell yeah!" Daniel pulled the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them, and wiped the grease off on his jeans.

"Let me 'jus change out of these dirty clothes."

Hours later, Daniel pulled up to the "Ol' Tavern." A silly name, many agreed, but the selection of spirits, beers, and wines that many of the people in town refused to pass up. The small town of West Oak was quiet, and sparsely populated. Many of the townsfolk grew up there, lived there their entire life, and many even passed on there. It was very rarely that outsiders even visit, with its distance from major highways and insignificance for tourism.

He proudly slammed the door, as a few females at the front door gave him glances of approval. Being a proud bachelor, he was surely okay with this. He waltzed into the bar, and scanned for Marcus. As usual, Marcus was in the same spot he sat in every day, with a fresh beer in his hand. Daniel began to pace slowly to him, but felt a faint pain in the back of his head, and an eerie feeling filling the room. As he approached Marcus, a man in dark clothing cut him off.

His wardrobe consisted of a robe-like suit, cut like a suit but draped on him much like a robe, and a white shirt underneath. A strange style of tie accentuated this – it too was robe-like, with many folds and a silken texture. The man glanced at Daniel to reveal his pale complexion, and a look that pierced Daniel. He seemed like an older gentleman, but had no wrinkles. His hair was either well shaved, or naturally AWOL. A silk hat of unknown style topped his head, similar to a top hat, but it sagged.

The man glanced at Daniel with familiarity, as he reached out to Daniel. Daniel looked down to see an envelope in his hand. Daniel glanced at the letter, then at the man. "_Thake et_." The man's accent suited him well, creepy and hard to understand. Daniel looked at him confused and responded, "Excuse me?" "_Thake et. Es yaurs."_

Daniel grasped the envelope, and the man immediately released it from his grip. He turned away and began walking out of the bar. Daniel looked around and noticed that everyone was staring at the man, and at Daniel. As the strange man approached the door, focus turned to Daniel, and as the door swung shut to the man's absence, everyone snapped back into their previous roles.

"Daniel, ovah heyr, ah ha ha!"

Marcus was already drunk, this much was obvious. Daniel sat down next to him, immediately greeted with the usual. For once, Daniel did not jump straight to his beer; his focus was too much on the man and the letter that he held. Marcus turned to him; bits of peanut coated his thick grey beard. Daniel looked down at the letter, and noticed the strange texture of the paper. He rubbed his hand across his neck, and then moved to his clean-shaven face.

Daniel's clean shave was awkward amongst the townsfolk. Most of them had facial hair, beards being the most popular. Daniel's shaggy hair and clean face made him known, as not a single person in town came close to his style. The only other way he could dare be seen, was with his hair combed and gelled, which he often did for work. He worked just outside of town at Brookmyer Law, a law office in a city known as Pine Harbour. No, it was more than just outside of town, Daniel had a two-hour commute daily to and from work, hence why he was also the only person who owned a hybrid.

Daniel was always out of place. He tried well to fit in, and for the most part did, but the slightest quirks made him seem like a stranger in the town. Everyone accepted him, though the townsfolk were not typically accepting of non-natives. To them however, he was a native – he knows enough to know he was not born there, nor were his parents, but for some reason, neither he nor anybody else can remember exactly why he was there. His focus shifted to the letter once more, and he flipped it over.

Pulling at the loosely attached flap, he opened the letter's envelope. He pulled out a piece of paper that seemed to be centuries in age, and a large sum of bills, summing at minimum, a couple ten thousand. He was so distraught by the situation however, that the money meant nothing to him. He quickly turned to the letter.

DeaR DAnIEL  
_  
I HaVE wrIttEn YoU tO proViDe _MoRe InfoRMatien oN yoUr aD_Forme_nsIond dUteeS tO tHE clIeenT  
as yOu KnoW yOu ARE tWo MeAt tHE ClIeenT Just _OUtsIde of TOWn BuT_ ThE LocAsheN haS YeT To bE EsTabLaShed. YoU Are To MeaT tHe _CliEen_t in A NearbYe TowN nAmED _Silent Hill._ I HaeV InklOzed A SmaLl PortIen of Youre Paymentts

The letter had no return address, nor any indication of who wrote it. The handwriting was horrid, and almost hard to read. It had many spelling and grammatical errors, but one word stood out, underlined and properly written, _Silent Hill_. Daniel turned to Marcus and quickly asked, "Hey Marcus... you ever hear of a place called Silent Hill?"

"Not tha' I ca' remembah."


	2. Chapter 2: Destiny

Daniel tossed his clothes into a bag. He had on a formal suit, a very dark grey pair of slacks, a clean white cotton shirt, and a black coat. He accented the suit with a blue tie. He seemed to be mentally preoccupied, focusing on packing, and the events of last night. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit, but something was driving him to go.

He left a large sum of the pre payment in his house, "just in case." If something were to happen, he was sure someone would find it. He knew there was no reason for a dead man to have money. What triggered these thoughts though? Why was he still so willing – driven even – to go anyway with the thoughts and fears of being murdered? He was not sure, nor did he care. He knew what he felt strongly compelled to do, that was it.

He finished packing a few knick-knacks, and tossed his belongings into the back seat of his Camaro. He slid his hand across the visually crystalline paint of the roof. He looked around; he did not want anyone to greet him before he left. One last glance behind him, and he pulled open the door by its chrome handle. He slid into the leather seat, and pulled the seatbelt across his flat chest. Unlike many of the townsfolk, Daniel was not large, or muscular; he was not weak, but he was not one to be known for his strength.

As he pulled out of his carport, he got a sinking feeling, but he swallowed his pride and finished the maneuver. He drove full speed towards the north, with only a map with a circle on it, circling a finely printed word, "Silent Hill". He took a sip of his coffee as he passed a road sign, "West Oak City Limits – 20 Mi."

4 hours later, he pulled up to a rest stop, not particularly lost; not exactly knowing where he was going. He pulled open the steel and glass doors of the plaza, and walked in. The smell of the many restaurants and fast food joints flooded his nose. He paced over to the information booth. A young woman was working today.

"Hey there, ma'am… I was curious to know… which way is it to Silent Hill?"

She gave him a blank stare, followed by a simple question: "Hm?"

"Silent Hill… I'm an attorney and I've been asked to meet a client in Silent Hill… which way is it?"

She gave a look of pure concern, and without speaking, turned to the manager, or at least someone in higher control. She began to whisper to him, as he glanced over to Daniel. The man in a black tie and white dress shirt, bulging from his underlining fat, made his way to Daniel. He too, had a look of concern.

"Why do you need to go to Silent Hill today, sir?"

Daniel was beginning to worry. Why were they so bothered by the mention of Silent Hill? He glanced over to notice that some of the nearby cashiers and information attendants were also giving him glares here and here.

"I have business to attend to there… is there a problem?"

"Well, no… it's just…"

The man paused, coughed into his fist, fixed his tie, and then put on a straight face.

"Just keep heading the road north, you can't miss it. There isn't any road signs, but there isn't anywhere else that north leads."

Daniel felt no reason to stay around much longer. He was already at unease about going to Silent Hill already; he did not need anyone adding fuel to the fire. He gave his thanks and left softly. As he reached for the door, he heard a shout. It was the man in white.

"Hey kid! I don't know what business you got in that place, but if it's not too important I'd suggest just turning back, go home, and forget about it. It's not worth it."

"Thanks…"

Daniel did not know what more to say, and lead his way out the door and to his car. As he walked to the car, the man's attitude continued to bother him. He reached for the handle as a vision overthrew him. He saw something with a suit of a flesh color, so true to tone that it even seemed to BE flesh! Blood ran down its featureless face, and there was nothing but darkness around it. It lunged forward, almost as if it was attacking him.

Daniel did not know what he saw but all he knew is he found himself laying upright on the pavement, facing his car door. His hand was covered in a small bit of blood, presumably from the fall. He had scratched his right palm. He got up, and pulled open the door. He reached in the back and grabbed a handkerchief with his left hand, and wrapped it around his right hand. He pulled himself into the car, pulled out, and progressed towards Silent Hill.

The vision did not bother him. Why should it? He was already terribly bothered already. He knew something or someone was pulling him towards Silent Hill. He knew that he did not want to go, but he still was compelled to. He didn't want to fight it. If there was something strong enough to play with his emotions like this, he wanted to find out about it.

Not but an hour later, he came to a foggy road. This wasn't typical, as the roads before had been clear as day. He looked to the right and noticed a sign, slowing his car down to compensate for the faded vision. As he came closer, he could faintly but surely, read it. It read in big, bold, black lettering, "Silent Hill". He was here, and there was no turning back.


	3. Chapter 3: Welcome to Silent Hill

It didn't strike him until now, that Daniel didn't have any more information beyond the town. No building, no street name, nothing. No clues were given to where he should head next. He kept driving, the fog seemingly denser with every passing minute. It was almost immediately that he realized how small of a town Silent Hill was, and that finding his destination wouldn't be as hard as he though.

He came up to a diner. It looked empty, but he could see a few people inside. He decided it would be a great place to start. He pulled into the parking lot, and grabbed a pack of Marlboro Reds. He began packing the tobacco and looking around. It was hard to see much of anything, but the glow of the diner made things a tad easier to see. He noticed the trees didn't seem to be that healthy. They had a dark green tint, and sagged more than they should, but it they gave off the feeling that they were always like that.

He pulled the opener on the pack, and pulled out a cigarette. He slid the pack into his coat, where he also pulled out a monogram lighter. He flicked it open, flicked it on, and quickly lit his cigarette. He could quickly tell that the fog was interfering with the strength of the flame, but it lasted enough to ignite his cigarette. He made his way to the diner, shutting the door on his way. He padded his pocket, assuring that he grabbed his keys.

As he pulled open the door, he was greeted with a sweet, delicious smell, and the sound of 80s soft rock. He looked around and noticed only two people – an elderly gentleman with a green coat and a cane, and a middle age woman working as a waitress. He sat down at the bar, and took a large puff of his cigarette, then tapped it on the nearby ashtray. The woman quickly walked up to and greeted him.

"Haven't seen you around before… my name is Tammy, what can I do for you?"

He glanced up. She was wearing a blue blouse, with white accents, typical of an 80's diner.

"You really take this 80's theme seriously, huh?"

She smiled softly. "We sure do. Is there anything I can get for you? Want to try our soup of the day?"

He looked into her eyes, took a drag, and tapped his cigarette into the tray. "As much as I'm sure the food is good, I'm actually here for some information. Someone called to me, said they needed my services. I'm an attorney, from West Oak. Ever hear of it?" His professional voice shined, and she showed signs of impression.

"Well now, Mr. Attorney… I wish I could be of help, but I don't know of anyone like that…"

He was tempted to mention the man in black, but something told him not to. He took another draw from his cigarette, followed by putting it out. "I've changed my mind. I haven't ate in hours, I could use some of that soup." She smiled as she turned to gather it. "I'll just be in the restroom ,washin' my face." He stood up and proceeded to the back of the diner.

He pushed open the swinging door to the bathroom, then latched it behind him. He walked over to the sink and began running it, splashing the water up to his face. He looked in the mirror and inspected himself. He noticed something odd right away – the color of the reflection was different than that behind him. The mirror gave off a reddish reflection, and the room was lit with a bluish tone. He though perhaps it was just a poor quality mirror and ignored it.

He moved his hand to the latch, when something overtook him. The same feelings he felt with the visions hit him again. He let his hand off the latch and placed it on his forehead. He found his way back to the sink and turned it back on. Pulling his hand off of his forehead, he noticed it was covered in blood. Thinking it was the hand he had scraped, he glanced at his right hand to assure himself. Sure enough, it was still wrapped with the handkerchief. He glanced at the mirror, and noticed something more to it. There was something written on the stall in blood. He turned behind him to see the stall door was clean. Turning back, blood still showed on the stall in the mirror.

He began feeling extremely uneasy, and very sickly. He put his hands on the rim of the sink, droplets of water hitting his knuckles. He looked down at the sink, drops of blood hitting the ceramic edges. He collapsed, his face hooking onto the outer edge of the sink. He lost consciousness with the feeling of a shaking world around him. He was out.


End file.
